


B is for Blood

by Fig Newton (sg_fignewton)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Not quite poetry, canon character death, canon torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11206041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_fignewton/pseuds/Fig%20Newton
Summary: A dark fragment of Jack's stream of consciousness inAbyss.





	B is for Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jack Alphabet Soup (dubbed Jack Alpha-Bits, because _Jack_ ) in October 2008. Rated for canon torture and deaths. (And Charlie.)

rich and cloying, the copper taste of blood

overlays all senses

turning hearing into muffled murmurs, his sense of smell clogged by memories of

_Charlie not Charlie no no no_

blood coats his tongue.

pinned against merciless metal mesh

he blinks blood away and watches that crystal vial tipping, spilling

droplets hang, then dart across the room

searing breastbone, burrowing deep to flay nerve endings

and Jack wants to scream, but the blood runs into his throat, gagging and choking.

gravity at his back, dragging him down, down,

_is this how Cromwell felt when he plunged into the black hole of the Gate?_

Carter would tell him if he's still falling, still feeling.

Jack is falling now, falling, failing, blood seeping everywhere but into his veins, 

his heart pumping, frantic to find 

_the blood that pools beneath that small body, and Sara is somewhere, sobbing instructions on the phone, and Charlie's gasping breaths have him scrambling to stop, stop it, stop the blood that paints his hands and arms as it drains..._

another acid droplet splashes his cheek, 

scalds inwards, and the blood trickles faster now.

a voice rumbles somewhere to the right, above him, and Jack doesn't want to listen

he wants this to stop, he wants to stop the blood that flows and thickens and keeps

_Charlie. Charlie. Charlie._

his tormentor asks questions, and questions, 

and no one tells you that the devil loves all that glitters and is gold 

and holds her hostage

or that there will never ever be relief

manicured hands, fingering the vial, playing with it

tilting it then straightening, a threat and a promise

but the promise is hollow, because even if the last blood drains away

_and it will, just like Charlie's_

it will just start again.

again and again and again.

"Daniel," he tries to say

but he can only mouth it, because his vocal cords are torn from screams and acid 

and ebbing strength

"Daniel."

_Daniel._

he doesn't know if the word is plea 

or prayer, or profanity

but as his vision dims to black

and he gasps one last bubbling breath

and his heart stutters and fails

he knows that he only wants this to end.

**Author's Note:**

> Random, I can't thank you enough for helping me get this right.


End file.
